


Your Eyes

by celestrian



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Minor Spoilers, Romance, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 16:31:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9829619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestrian/pseuds/celestrian
Summary: V's eyes are closed, his expression at complete ease as he sips at his tea; delicate hands cradling the grey-blue mug ever so lightly - as if he's afraid he might break the object. The seat is positioned in front of the room's windows, so the winter's late sunrise is visible behind him - oranges, pinks and blues merging together in an image reminiscent of a watercolour painting. The glow of the morning sun casts itself over the room - over him - and he looksradiant.(You’ve never believed in ‘love at first sight’, but you think this is the closest you’ve ever come to it.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> hi there!  
> so, a bit of context before you read:  
> \- the reader is referred to as a woman  
> \- this occurs after the events of secret endings 1 & 2 (aside from one obvious difference from the canonical events), but there are no spoilers for them!  
> \- mc joins the RFA a year or two after the secret endings - so a few things are different. (i.e. [spoiler] rika and v have separated and he's now content to move on with his life, because he's also come to terms with the fact that the nature of their relationship was Very Not Good)  
> \- [minor spoiler] he's also had the eye surgery as a result!  
> enjoy!

**i.**

It’s six-thirty A.M. on a Tuesday morning, and you’re waking up to the sound of your phone emitting its tinny instrumental ringtone.

Still bleary-eyed with sleep, you fumble around the bedside table for the object – to your relief, you manage to grab the device before whoever was calling decided to give up trying.

The light of the screen hits your face and burns your eyes as they’re forced to adjust to the sudden illumination of the otherwise dark room. The letters blur together, though you can just about make out the name of the caller.

' _Incoming Call - V_ '

Part of your brain wonders why on earth he would be attempting to reach you so early in the morning ( _how is he even awake enough to make a phone call right now?_ ), but you push this thought to the side for the moment and answer the call.

"Hey, good morning," he pauses as he hears no reply on your end, then continues in a slightly quieter tone, "oh, sorry - did I wake you up? I just called to check up on you – how’ve your first few days been so far?"

You pause to consider that perhaps six in the morning isn’t the best time to enquire about someone’s wellbeing, but you’re quite touched by the fact that he’d even thought to take the time to do it in the first place. Thus, you bite your tongue and refrain from mentioning it to him.

Another thing which captures your attention is his voice itself – it’s velvety smooth, calm and yet pronounced, like the slip of silk over soft skin, or waves of warm water washing over a seaside shore.

You almost fall right back asleep at the sound, it's so entrancing.

"You know, you have a really lovely voice."

It seemed that in your current sleep-addled, still-dreaming state, your mental filter wasn't awake just yet either. Oh well – the sentiment wasn’t particularly embarrassing to have said aloud.

He chuckles gently, "thank you".

You decide from then on that you want to make this man laugh as much and as often as possible.

"Is something wrong? You've gone silent."

"Oh! Sorry - you just have a really nice laugh too."

You can almost hear his smile from through the phone. You imagine how it would look, casting your eyes to the caller I.D. image and picturing his features morphing into a wide smile. Perhaps, you think, his eyes would crinkle at the edges, his eyebrows raised in amusement as his lips parted to reveal pretty white teeth. Or maybe it would only be a gentle, soft sloping of the lips, just at the very edges in a charming almost-smirk.

Either way, it would be beautiful.

You talk with him for a few more minutes - about the RFA, about its members, about your duties as the newest addition to the team.

"Well, I think I've talked enough for today. If you have any concerns, feel free to contact me at any time."

"That's kind of you. I look forward to getting to know you better."

He hums in agreement. "Yes, me too."

 

**ii.**

His smile is every bit as breathtaking as you'd imagined.

This fact is first presented to you when he knocks on your door at quarter past seven A.M. on a Thursday, just as you've begun to brew yourself a cup of tea. (You've always been an early riser, after all – just not to the extent that V apparently was.)

The unexpected knocking on the door elicits a yelp from your throat, and you swear you can hear a chuckle from the other side of the door. You walk cautiously through the hallway, catching sight of your reflection in the full-length mirror propped up against one of the walls.

To be honest, you were expecting worse - though the state you're in isn’t exactly immaculate. Your cheeks are flushed with sleep, and your hair is somewhat mussed – it falls unevenly, away from its natural parting and mostly to one side, with flyaway strands here and there.

You take a moment to try to make yourself a little more presentable; you run a hand through your hair, managing to make it look at least somewhat passable as you continue to make your way to the front door.

You look through the peephole, where a head of bright turquoise hair immediately catches your eye - you don’t hesitate any longer before you unlock the door for your surprise visitor.

He lifts his chin up from the teal scarf he's wearing, and you allow yourself to take in his appearance properly for a few moments.

You can gather that he's tall and slender, despite the heavy black trenchcoat that covers up his form. His skin is pale, clear of any blemishes and looks exceptionally smooth, stretched over high, prominent cheekbones and a jawline that you imagine could put a dent in concrete. His eyes are narrow - but not particularly small - and almond-shaped. They’re a sharp, striking shade of aquamarine; though their gaze is not intimidating in the least, and you can't seem to bring yourself to look away.

Then, there are his lips. Pink, plump and very pretty, and parted in a pleasant smile. His pearly-white teeth seem to glint in the early morning light, and you can't help but briefly contemplate his dental routine.

"Ah, sorry about the unannounced visit, but I wanted to come and see for myself how you were getting along."

You thought his voice sounded great on the phone, but it’s clear now that that was nowhere _near_ how much better it sounded in person. You feel yourself falter, the words you had intended to say suddenly caught in your throat.

(You’ve never believed in ‘love at first sight’, but you think this is the closest you’ve ever come to it.)

"Are you alright?"

You realise that you may have been staring for a few moments too many, and that it might have also made him a little uncomfortable by now. Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you briefly wonder if he can see it.

"Oh! Sorry about that, I was just... lost in thought." you smile at him, shaking your head and stepping back to let him enter. You gesture for him to remove his coat and scarf, and as you place the garments on the hanger near the door, you continue, "I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

You lead him into the kitchen, pulling out another cup from the cupboard and flicking on the kettle for a second time.

As you wait for it to boil, the sound of an amused hum from beside you causes you to turn your head to the side.

"It's alright, really. I'm flattered, to be honest with you."

You look at one another for a few moments, silently observing each other until the sound of simmering water slows to a stop, and wisps of steam begin to rise and drift between the two of you.

He turns away first.

"Here, let me help."

You try not to think too much of the brush of his hand against yours as you both reach for the kettle handle at the same time.

 

**iii.**

"So, you're a photographer." You sit cross-legged on a wooden armchair opposite V, who you’d insisted – as he was, indeed, your guest – should sit on the sofa facing you. His fingers tap a rhythm on the arm of the seat, until he happens to find a small hole in the fabric, which he starts to absentmindedly pick at.

"That's correct." A smile ghosts across his lips, though you notice he sinks a little further into the couch under your gentle, attentive scrutiny.

"Ah, that's really cool. I've always liked photography myself."

A comfortable silence settles over you both, and you scan the room before glancing at your own, fairly unremarkable digital camera sitting on the ledge beside your chair. You haven't used it in a few months - you haven't had a reason to, really - and you don't even know if it's charged or not. (You’d brought it to the apartment on a whim – you’d considered that if you were going to make friends and memories with these people for the next few weeks, you might as well capture a few moments for sentiment’s sake.) Despite this, you pick it up anyway.

You switch it on, and the lens whirrs as it expands. Lifting it to eye-level (and noting the mere thirty-eight percent battery life that it seemed to have left), you scan the room aimlessly with it, before eventually pointing it at the man sitting across from you.

You hadn't paid much attention to it before, but the scene in front of you is quite literally picture perfect.

V's eyes are closed, his expression at complete ease as he sips at his tea; delicate hands cradling the grey-blue mug ever so lightly - as if he's afraid he might break the object. His every motion possesses a certain fluidity and sensitivity to his surroundings - he never moves awkwardly or stutters in his actions - a stark contrast to your hesitance and occasional clumsiness. The seat is positioned in front of the room's windows, so the winter's late sunrise is visible behind him. The sky thus begins to colour with beautiful pastels - oranges, pinks and blues merging together in an image reminiscent of a watercolour painting. The glow of the morning sun casts itself over the room - over him - and he looks _radiant_.

You press down, and the shutter clicks.

You lower the camera from in front of your face, checking to see if V had realised you'd taken a photo of him. His eyes were still closed, and he retained the same peaceful countenance as before - so you presumably hadn't been caught.

You turn your attention back to the device in your hands, smiling at the image you’d captured as it appears on the screen. (Honestly, it's probably the best photo you've ever taken.)

"Did it come out well?" You jolt as he breaks the tranquil silence with a sudden comment.

"Did what come out well?"

"The photo."

You pretend not to notice the curve of his lips into what could only be described as a smirk. You definitely pretend not to notice how it makes you feel.

 

**iv.**

After another half an hour or so of (somewhat unexpectedly) comfortable conversation, he’d decided to take his leave before he ‘overstayed his welcome’ (his words, not yours). You’d tried to argue that it wasn’t even your place – it was technically _his_ now, come to think of it – and that he could therefore stay for as long as he wanted, but he’d quickly dismissed your reasoning with a polite wave of his hand.

You tug at the sleeves of your jumper as you see him to the door – whether it was out of self-consciousness, habit, or even disappointment, you couldn’t tell.

He seems to ponder over something as he retrieves his coat, doing up each of the buttons before looping his scarf twice around his neck. "I suppose the next time I'll see you is two weeks from now, then."

You take a moment to think about it, distractedly looping the drawstrings of your jogging bottoms around your index finger as you do.

"Oh, you mean the party? Yes, I look forward to seeing you there!"

With that having been said, he nods and smiles, before turning to walk away. You pull the door shut behind him, a thoughtful smile playing upon your own lips.

 

* * *

The shrill ringing of your mobile breaks you out of your reverie, so you slide over to the other end of the corridor in order to pick it up from where it’s skittering over a side table.

‘ _Incoming Call - 707_ '

You arch an eyebrow, now curious, as you swipe the screen to answer the call.

"What's up?"

"Oooh, it seems we’ve discovered something new! It’s a breakthrough!"

“What… are you talking about?”

“My space antenna have detected that you’ve caught a bug!”

“A bug? No, I haven’t.” You’re smiling despite your confusion, though you can’t help but question if the usually crazy Luciel has finally gone completely insane.

“Some viewers might be wondering what I’m talking about. Well, by bug, I don’t mean just any old bug…”

He’s definitely on a caffeine high, isn’t he?

“I mean the _luuurve_ bug!” He draws out the ‘u’ for far longer than is necessary – so that you almost don’t catch what he’s trying to say at first.

It hits you a few seconds later. "Wait…”

You tear the device away from your ear before you're deafened by the sound of Seven's boisterous cackling. How on earth—

Your train of thought is interrupted by a faint whirring sound which seems to be coming from above you. You look up in order to try and locate its source.

A tiny black device which appears to be a CCTV camera turns to look directly at you.

"...Oh." You’re a little lost for words.

“Don’t worry, you have my full support. But! You have to invite me to the wedding!” You bury your reddening face into your free hand.

“What are you saying…?”

“Well, I’ve got work to do. Matchmaker 707, over and out. Pop!”

 

**v.**

**you [14:23]:** hey

**zen [14:24]:** what’s up?

**you [14:24]:** i think i like him

 

You gnaw on your bottom lip, silently debating with yourself as to whether this was even a good idea in the first place.

 

**zen [14:26]** : what??

**zen [14:26]** : who!!!

**zen [14:28]** : why are you not replying;;

**you [14:29]** : trust fund kid...

**zen [14:30]** : what.

**zen [14:30]** : please tell me you’re joking

**you [14:31]** : …’s friend lol

**zen [14:31]:** oh thank God

 

You can practically hear his loud sigh of relief.

 

**zen [14:31]:** but i didn't think he had friends??

 

You stifle a laugh, though your nervousness doesn’t completely dissipate.

 

**zen [14:32]** : wait.

**zen [14:32]** : it’s not…

**zen [14:32]:** v??

**you [14:33]** : bingo

**zen [14:33]** : …seriously?

**zen [14:33]** : woah

 

**vi.**

"I never thought I'd see the day."

"For what?" you lift your eyes from observing your rippling reflection in your coffee, only for them to meet Zen's kind gaze.

"You fell in love, and you fell for V, out of us all.”

“Well, I don’t think I’m _in love_ with him yet, but what about it?”

“Nothing…” He looks particularly suspect, so you stare him down until he finally cracks under your scrutiny. “Ah, it’s just that... is that your type? You have a soft spot for handsome yet troubled art connoisseurs?”

“Only this one, apparently.” You give an absent shrug, distracted by the intricate patterns on the walls of the charming local café.

“He seems cool on the outside, but he’s actually pretty sensitive…”

“Mhm.”

“Quite the romantic, too – though I guess all artists are, to an extent. We see the world differently, I think.”

“That’s probably true.”

“Now that I think about it, he seems like he’d be quite a good lover.”

“Yeah.”

“… _If you know what I mean_.”

You choke on a sip of your Frappuccino.

He continues, too distracted with looking outside the window at the sunset to spare you any more than a worried glance, though he extends a hand to pat your back with.

“One day, you’ll have to tell me if I was right.”

“ _Zen_!”

 

**vii.**

A week before the party, he calls you again – a pleasant surprise. You settle into the sofa, your phone in one hand and your laptop propped up on your bent legs – your head propped up by one armrest and your feet dangling over the other, hanging in mid-air off the side of the chair.

"V? What's up?" You open your inbox, preparing for an onslaught of new emails that would need replying to. The pressure was high – if you responded in a way that the client found unsatisfactory, you’d have one less guest attending the event. You can’t afford to lose too many of them – the thought of a three-person party makes you inwardly cringe.

"Are you free today?"

The question is unexpected, but your interest is nonetheless piqued. You pause in the middle of your Google search (“ _how many minutes to cook a lobster_ ”) in order to reply.

"I am - but why do you ask?" Your fingers resume their gliding over the keyboard as you push down the caps-lock key and type T-I-A-R-A-N-O-L for the third time today, ensuring you add at least twenty exclamation marks on the end of the word for good measure. (Meanwhile, you note that two more guests have agreed to attend the party – you mentally congratulate yourself on a job well done.)

"Do you think I could pick you up in an hour? I'd like your help with something."

"Of course."

You don't even know what he'll ask of you, but honestly, you don't care, since it’s him that’s asking.

(You really are in deep.)

You trust him, anyhow.

"Thank you - I appreciate it. I'll see you in an hour, then."

 

* * *

"You took a photo of me, so you should at least allow me to return the favour."

"If I'd known, I might not have agreed to this so easily..."

"Well, you didn't even think to ask." V smiles, teasing, as he goes to retrieve an oak stool from a corner of the room.

Said 'room' was apparently his studio, and the 'help' he'd mentioned needing from you earlier was to have you model for his latest photography project. The studio is all very _white_ – the walls and ceiling are painted a brilliant shade of it, and so are the few items of furniture in the room (namely, a chair, a desk, and a coffee table). The only exceptions to the colour scheme are the wooden flooring, the stool V’s just placed in the middle of the room, and the large, almost intimidating umbrella lights that tower high over you.

You're tempted to object further, but you only sigh and perch on the edge of the circular seat, sensing that you've already lost this half-hearted battle.

Besides, you admit that the argument he presents might be _somewhat_ valid.

"...Fine." You pout, picking at the rips in the denim of your jeans, and you spot his brows quirk up from behind the (highly technical, probably very expensive) camera he's holding in front of his face.

The shutter clicks.

"Hey, I wasn't ready!" It comes out as more of an indignant whine than a shout.

"Sorry," he responds, though he doesn't sound particularly apologetic. "Right, let's begin properly now, shall we?"

* * *

“Well, I think we're done for today." He announces this around fifteen minutes later, as he lowers the camera and lets it hang from the thick strap around his neck. Time had elapsed faster than you’d thought – perhaps since you’d been conversing with him for a good portion of the shoot. You’d asked him about this interest of his – you discovered that he’d got his first camera at the age of nine, and it had been one of his greatest passions ever since. You’d listened to his distant laments about how he’d thought that he’d never be able to do photography again after losing his sight, and how he began to see the world differently after the surgery – he’d stopped taking for granted the sights he’d hardly paid any mind to before his loss of vision.

You’d also learnt that this project was for the latest exhibition of an independent local gallery – and that he’d only called you on a whim; as you’d happened to be the first person that came to mind after he’d been briefed on the theme. You’d asked him what the said theme was, more than a little curious at this point, though he’d evaded your question with no more than an enigmatic smile.

He rises from his crouched position, stretching out his back before stepping closer towards you.

You're rooted in place under his attentive yet gentle observation - you couldn't bring yourself to move even if you tried.

"You're a great model, you know. Pleasant, patient… pretty."

You draw in a shaky breath through parted lips.

"I bet you say that to everyone you photograph."

He shakes his head almost imperceptibly, hesitantly reaching out for a few strands of hair that had fallen in front of your face.

He tucks them behind your ear, the corners of his lips curving up in a not-quite smile, one that doesn't reach his eyes. His expression appears to be inexplicably sad, even.

"No, only you."

 

**viii.**

At last, the night you'd been anticipating for so long now had finally arrived.

"Ah, it’s the woman of the hour herself!" Zen greets you with a warm smile, having been the first face you'd recognised at the location. It seems that all your efforts have paid off – the place is packed with guests – and there are a good deal more than you’d initially thought there would be.

"Hey, Zen - you look great tonight!"

He looks at you with mock offense, though his expression doesn't actually hold any malice. "Don't I always?"

"Aha, of course, but you look even _better_ today."

It's true - he looks charming and rather suave in all-black from head-to-toe - black pointed-toe shoes adorn his feet, while fitted black slacks accentuate his toned legs and a black, form-fitting turtleneck does just the same for his torso and arms. The dark colours present a stark contrast to his pale skin and fair hair, and he appears to be almost glowing because of it. (You're pretty sure you passed a group of guests on the way who looked like they might start drooling at the sight of him.)

"Why, thank you. You look... quite incredible yourself."

He looks you up and down appreciatively, winking as he looks back up again. You feel your face prickle with heat at the attention, though you have to admit that your dress does indeed look rather good on you. The dress is held up with thin elasticated straps at your shoulders, which lead down to a V-neck neckline. It dips a little, stopping a few inches below the base of your neck - at the exact vertical mid-point between your collarbones and your waistline - while the skirt ends just below your knees. The entire piece is completely decorated with shimmering silver glitter, which sparkles and catches the light perfectly, resulting in the reflection of a multitude of iridescent colours whenever you move around.

"Thanks. But where are the others?"

"Oh, they're around here somewhere.” He scans over the room quickly, trying to spot any other familiar faces. “Hey - why don't you start with them?" He nods with a smirk towards the donation box in the centre of the room, where Jumin is talking casually to none other than V.

You suck in a breath at the sight of the latter - although he's somewhat far away from where you are, you can already tell that he looks _really good_.

"Alright, I'll head over there then. See you later."

"Have fun!"

He winks again, raising his eyebrows suggestively, and you resist the urge to smack him upside his pretty little head. 

 

* * *

Your hands are clammy as you approach the pair, though you wipe them quickly on the front of your dress. The glitter scrapes and itches against your palms, but doesn't really do much to solve the problem.

"Um, hello."

Jumin is the first to turn and look at you, though a look of vague confusion crosses his features, as opposed to recognition.

V doesn't appear to have heard you at first, although he eventually turns his attentions to you once he's registered that Jumin has stopped talking for the moment.

Perhaps it's unintentional, but the low whistle he emits as he looks you over doesn't go unnoticed by you.

"Wow. You look... _radiant_."

(You also don't miss the pink colour that rises to his cheeks as he says this.)

"Oh, thank you! I appreciate the compliment. Though, you don't look so bad yourself." You smile and make a show of examining his appearance. His hair is combed to the side as usual, and there's nothing different about his face, but his outfit has changed from his usual casual t-shirt and jeans ensemble to something far more _flattering_. Like Zen, he dons a black turtleneck, though his frame is svelter and more delicate, you note, in comparison to the former's more obviously muscular physique. Over this sits an unbuttoned navy blazer, with four shiny silver buttons embellishing each sleeve. The turtleneck is tucked into a pair of rather fitting white skinny jeans, which stop at his ankles just above the pair of black brogues on his feet.

You look back up at his face a few moments later, where he meets your eyes with the most intense gaze you've seen from him so far. It's reminiscent of the time when you'd first met in person - the few moments in the kitchen where you'd looked at one another, as if trying to unravel the other, to figure them out.

Meanwhile, Jumin stares at you both in turn as if trying to decipher some sort of code.

He coughs, fixing his tie, and the trance is broken.

"V, who is this?"

"Hm?" He addresses Jumin, but keeps his eyes on yours. "Oh, I forgot - you never did know what she looked like. Jumin, this is none other than the woman who made this all happen – I believe you’ve become quite well-acquainted with her over the past couple of weeks."

At this, the businessman's face transforms into one of understanding. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that he even smiles at you - you break eye contact with V for a moment in order to look at him properly, as this seems like it would be a rare occurrence, and even if it is only a small curve of the corners of his mouth, it's a smile from him nonetheless.

You outstretch a hand towards him, which he stares at for a moment, before clasping his own around it in a firm handshake.

"It's nice to finally meet you. You also have my gratitude - without you, this party would never have happened."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, too, Jumin. I'm also grateful that everyone in the RFA was so kind and welcoming - I'm glad to have met such..." - your gaze travels pointedly back to V - "charming, generous, kind people".

The flush on the photographer’s cheeks deepens, while his lips part slightly as he begins to process your words. He tries to feign composure, but he's no Zen - acting isn't really his forte.

Neither can he hide the way his eyes flicker, only briefly, to your lips as you offer him a teasing half-smile.

* * *

You're struck by the sudden, strong urge to kiss him.

(The train of thought rattles past so rapidly that it leaves you reeling.)

 

**ix.**

The party's drawing to a close - you can tell by the dwindling number of guests as they gradually begin to file out, bidding their farewells and thanks to the other members of the RFA.

Jaehee looks tired but gratified, while Yoosung practically bounces off the walls beside her - his inexhaustible supply of energy presumably thanks to the multiple cans of _Red Bear_ you’d seen him drink throughout the course of the night. Seven also seems wide awake, but this clearly owes to the can of _Ph.D Pepper_ which he's noisily slurping through a straw at one of the tables in the corner of the hall - sitting directly opposite him is his brother, who rubs circles into his temples and looks just about ready to leap across the table and strangle him. Jumin is conversing animatedly with two people from the group of the last remaining guests - a woman and a man whom you respectively recognise as being the owners of a cat shelter, and a cat... hotel.

Zen looks exhausted, the poor man - he couldn't seem to catch a break from conversation for the whole night - whether it was entertaining the guests on the stage or taking interviews from hyperactive news reporters, who all seemed to have the collective habit of beginning to ask another question before he'd even finished answering the one before that.

You walk slowly over to him from behind, before tapping on his shoulder ever so lightly. (He still jolts, despite your best efforts not to scare him.)

"Oh, it's just you." He breathes a sigh of relief and visibly relaxes, turning to face you. "I thought it was another reporter. They can't seem to get enough of me these days. Not that I can blame them, though."

Even in his weary state, he's still as narcissistic as ever. The thought makes you smile.

"You should smile more, you know. You look even cuter when you do."

Your breath hitches, and you narrow your eyes at him. “ _Hyun Ryu_ , how is it that even when you're like _this_ -" you gesture vaguely at his hunched-over form, and pull out a chair for him which he promptly slumps down on, "-you're still so damn charming?"

"Natural talent, babe." His eyes are closed, but his lips form a sleepy smirk (which would frankly make you swoon if you weren't so head-over-heels for a certain other RFA member).

You brush a few stray strands of hair out of his face affectionately, and he opens one eye in a squint to watch you as you do it.

"Alright, babe, get some rest. I'll be outside if you need me."

His eyes open fully, the faintest dusting of pink colouring his cheeks.

"Did you just call me _babe_?"

"Yep."

He laughs, slinking a lean arm around your waist and gently pulling you to his side. "If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought you’d finally fallen for my charms."

 

**x.**

The night air is crisp and cold, and chills the exposed skin that your dress doesn't cover. The feeling is equal parts welcome and unwelcome - it's refreshing, yet you can feel goosebumps begin to ripple over your skin and an involuntary shiver course down your spine. You rest your chin in your hands, your elbows propped up on the flat ledge of the fence around the garden as you lean your body forward against it.

You jump at the feeling of material being draped over your shoulders. It's comfortable, silky and smells faintly of a vaguely familiar wood-based cologne.

"Sorry - I didn't mean to startle you."

You close your eyes and inhale, both to calm yourself and to allow the scent of the damp night air to rush into your nostrils and fill your lungs.

"No need to apologise, V. But..." You turn to him - his turtleneck has long sleeves, though you're still concerned – “aren't you cold?"

"Not at all." He moves to stand next to you, leaning his own body against the fence - though his back rests against it instead. He turns his head to watch you as you slip your hands into the sleeves of what you now understand to be his blazer, and attempt to button it with fumbling, clumsy fingers. It's far too large on your frame, though - the sleeves dangle inches past your hands, and the bottom of it reaches past your hips, down to around your mid-thighs.

"Here, let me help."

(He's said that before, you recall.)

You trust him more than you trust yourself at the moment, so you stop your fiddling with the buttons and place your hands behind your back.

His own hands travel over the garment, doing the buttons with such deftness and speed that you barely have time to register it before he's done all three. The warmth of his hands seeps through the fabric and makes you shudder, now from something that isn't just the cold.

He then lifts your left hand with his right, observing the sleeve before using his other hand to fold it up on itself a few times. After he lowers this hand, he does the same for the right sleeve - though he doesn't lower your hand when he's done this time.

"Your hands are so warm," you can’t help musing aloud.

He looks up, ocean blue irises meeting your gentle gaze. He looks uncharacteristically vulnerable - sad, almost - as if he wants to say more, to express his emotions instead of just standing there watching you - but he can't seem to find the words.

"V?" His name is no more than a whisper slipping off your lips.

"Hm?"

"Can I... kiss you?"

He arches an eyebrow, his expression almost one of disbelief - and you're suddenly afraid, like a punch to the gut, that you've skipped a few steps in the process – moved too fast and messed things up.

The pause that follows is excruciating, and you tilt your head down in shame, easing your hand out of his.

“Sure. It’s been a while for me, though.” It sounds like he could be referring to a number of things, but you don’t ask him to expand.

At his unanticipated agreement to your request, all of the air in your lungs suddenly rushes out and you're left entirely, utterly breathless.

(You also can't take your eyes off his lips, now - but it's alright, because he's staring quite blatantly at yours too.)

It's all very slow, very delicate - like if you move too quickly you'll burst the bubble the two of you are floating in. You edge ever closer to one another, yet still at such a torturous pace – so close now, yet still not close enough. Your hands find their way to his broad shoulders, smoothing over the material of his top, down the slope of his neck and shoulders. His hands reach out to your waist; long, thin fingers clasping around your frame so cautiously and sensitively that it seems like he's scared that you'll shatter beneath the pads of his fingertips if he presses too hard.

Eventually, your eyes flutter shut, and your lips finally, _finally_ meet.

His mouth is soft and warm, his lips gentle and smooth as they slant against your own. He doesn't really taste of anything in particular, but from this proximity, you can smell the same sharp, strong fragrance that had lingered faintly on his blazer - it's intoxicating.

Everything about it - everything about _him_ \- is just so chaste, so innocent and pure and _good_. It's like being submerged in lukewarm bathwater, like drinking milk tea, like breathing in the fresh, damp air of a spring day.

(And yet, a yearning, desirous part of your brain still longs for _more_.)

You part moments later, and you swear that V's eyes sparkle like the stars that shimmer above your heads.

"How was that?" He's breathless - his voice is almost imperceptibly deeper, raspier than before.

"Mm, it was okay." you catch your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down on it lightly, coquettishly. "I think," you say, as you loop your arms around his neck, "we'll have to practice a little more, hm?"

And so, you capture his lips with yours once again - deeper, more passionately this time. To your surprise, he responds in kind - with a sudden eagerness and fervour you didn't think the man could be capable of. His fingertips press a little more firmly against you as he pulls you closer still.

You part again, but only to inhale this time, before you continue from where you left off.

God, everything about him is just so _addictive_.

This seems to be the last coherent thought left rattling around inside your brain - any and all others seem to have already escaped. They're _definitely_ all gone by the time V backs you up against the fence, oh-so-gently yet with an underlying impatience and ardour that you'd never have otherwise believed was contained in the mind of such a delicate, careful man.

Still waters ran deep, after all.

 

**xi.**

What feels like at least an hour later (but has probably only been five minutes or so) you both bring your actions to an eventual end. You retract your hands from their position in V's hair - a move you'd apparently made somewhere along the line without even having thought about it. His hands, also having moved at some point, loosen from your hips - and he steps back to allow you to move away from the fence.

You comply, stepping forward and stretching. The bunched up skirt of your dress falls back to the length it was before, as you arch your back up and give a quiet groan as you feel it click in multiple places.

"Are you okay?"

"Never been better." You look over at the male across from you, who's looking at you with an expression that you can’t quite read.

He honestly looks _gorgeous_.

His eyes are a little glazed over, pupils dilated, and his chest is rising and falling rapidly with shallow breaths - much like yours is too, you note. His cheeks are flushed scarlet, and his lips are bruised dark red in some places - an obvious contrast to their usual peachy pink. His hair is attractively tousled - no doubt as a result of your previous actions - and you can’t help but raise a hand to the nape of his neck again, tugging and twisting the delightfully soft strands around your fingers.

"Jihyun Kim," – you feel his sharp inhale and smile – "I really do like you."

"Well, that’s quite the coincidence, because I really do like you too."

He beams, brighter than any other one you’d seen from him so far, and it’s like looking straight into the sun.

 

\+ **extra**.

“V?”

“Hm?”

“What was the theme for that photography project we did together?”

“Oh, I’d forgotten I hadn’t told you.” He wrinkles his nose, but retains his easy smile. “It was ‘butterflies’.”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion – “why on Earth did you pick _me_ to photo, then? Why not just go outside and find some actual butterflies?”

“Butterflies don’t come out in the winter, silly. I had to… think outside the box.”

“…And?” You make a rotating motion with your hands, gesturing for him to elaborate further.

“After some consideration, I gave you a call, because I remembered how I got butterflies whenever I thought of you.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!  
> some more notes:  
> \- the title is from a korean song (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_VwDnylytIA) which i didn't even originally intend for it to be based off of, but it came on while i was writing the story and the mood and the lyrics just fit so well?? i was amazed  
> \- also it's extremely coincidentally called 'your eyes'...  
> \- moving on... i love v and i'm prepared to spend all of my hourglasses on his route (if there ever is one...)  
> \- but i feel like there's this common misconception in the fandom that he's super sad... hardly ever smiles or laughs  
> \- while it's true that he does apologise somewhat frequently, as well as the fact that he's different to how he used to be (according to the other characters), i don't really think he's that sad?  
> \- i can understand where this idea comes from but i think v is generally relatively positive - for example, in a lot of the VNs (especially with jumin) he's smiling and sounds quite cheerful  
> \- i also see him as quite a naturally suave and charming character, and the kind of person who teases (or even flirts with) people without even realising it half the time (i.e. in that phone call in the christmas dlc;;)  
> anyway, hope you enjoyed & until next time!


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